


Sosie

by offtoseetheconsultingcriminal



Category: The Fall (TV), The X-Files
Genre: F/F, F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:17:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offtoseetheconsultingcriminal/pseuds/offtoseetheconsultingcriminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to Scully, Dopplegangers aren't much of an X File. But as Mulder attends an Oxford reunion, she comes along at his behest. Stella Gibson teaches her something about indulgence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonlighting

**Author's Note:**

> Occurring in season 6

“Scully, you amaze me with everything you fit in a day.”

“Mulder, what on Earth are you talking about?”

A newspaper flew into her lap, dated the previous week, as she sat in their basement office waiting for Mulder to present their next case with his usual flare for dramatics. 

“What am I looking at?”

“The Daily Mail. One of my college friends sent it over with information about our upcoming reunion, but that isn’t what caught my attention. Cultures worldwide have a word for this phenomena. The French: Sosie, The Germans: Dopplegangers. But these are often limited to similarities in faces. Same height, weight, age, and occupation is much rarer than the occurrence of a lookalike.”

Mulder leaned back in his office chair, his eyes glinting with excitement. 

“Okay, but I don’t see the X File in this.”

“Look at the front page. Unless you’re moonlighting as a detective across the pond, I would say this is worth an investigation. In an unofficial capacity, of course.”

She stood and crossed to the end of the desk as she unfolded the newspaper.

“‘Detectives over the Moon with Arrests.’ Other than a bad headline, I don’t see a crime.”

“Look again Scully.”

The picture gracing the front page was of a well dressed blonde in her early 30’s who, quite alarmingly, seemed to possess Scully’s face. She seemed to be handling the investigation of a series of particularly brutal murders.

Her lips parted in surprise as her eyebrows migrated towards her hairline. 

Mulder sprang up out of his chair, leaving it to rock madly on its springs in his absence. “As it happens, my twelve year reunion is occurring this very weekend.”

At Scully’s questioning look, he continued, “I’ve booked us on an 8:30 flight to London tomorrow morning.”

“Mulder, I can’t just drop everything and go gallivanting off to London just because some woman is my look-alike.”

Mulder put his hand down next to her hip as it leaned on the desk. He implored her with his eyes as she looked up at him mere inches away. “Scully, I would appreciate the company.”

The side of her mouth quirked into a smile and looked down at her hands that held the paper, DI Stella Gibson was about to receive the shock of her life. 

 

As they were shown to their seats in the first class cabin, Scully looked over at Mulder in surprise. 

Mulder shrugged and looked out his window at the glacial tarmac, “The alumnus association springs for the tickets every year, I just never really wanted to go.”

“If I had known we would be flying in such style, I would have suggested that we come years ago.” She squeezed his arm which reclined on the divider between their seats before she dove into the latest copy of Nature.

Mulder tried not to smile at her casual use of ‘we’ in regards to his personal life as he relaxed back into his seat next to his partner.


	2. Savoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London called.

It was grand, and imposing, and historic, and everything America was not. She was patriotic, she worked for the FBI after all. She spent her nights in cheap hotels and her days filing paperwork into the great creature that was the Federal Government. But there were certain things that her country lacked, and the ability to look upon ancient history on a daily basis was one of them. 

The Savoy hotel loomed above them. 

Mulder stepped out and made a beeline for her side of the cab once they rolled to a stop. Scully didn't notice Mulder reaching for her door-handle and almost hit him in the stomach. She exited the taxi of her own volition, and shot Mulder a questioning look. Normally he only opened doors due to the convenience that she could walk directly under his arm. It was not a courtesy, it was a habit.

She followed his broad shouldered form into the lobby. It was a stark comparison, his swagger compared to the rush of people around him. People huddled as close to the ground as they could get, looking down until they reached their destinations. He looked up at the wonders of the journey. She followed his gaze at the carved trim of the room, to the coffered ceilings and lavish chandeliers. She loved that he devoured his surroundings, pasting inquisition onto everything. 

As they approached the marbled counter, a woman dressed brightly in pastels greeted them in with false hospitality in a lilting London accent.

“Hello, do I have a reservation for the lovely couple?” 

Scully rocked back on her hells and smirked at her shoes. She could feel Mulder’s eyes look at her before he smiled and said, “Fox Mulder. I believe everything has already been taken care of.”

“Yes. I see two adjoining suites for three nights. Is that correct sir?” Her smile faltered slightly at his American accent. 

“Yup.”

“Rooms 314 and 315. The bellhop will take your bags. Enjoy your stay.”

Mulder’s hand on the small of Scully’s back steered her away from the front desk towards the elevators. He whispered down to her as the bellboy struggled behind them with the bags, 

“Apparently twelve years of missed reunions adds up to some pretty good credit, huh Scully?”

“Three nights Mulder?”

“I’ve already cleared it with Skinner. He jumped at the opportunity when he learned that the bureau wasn’t covering travel and accommodations. Plus we’re out of his hair, or lack thereof, for three miraculous days. Loosen up Scully, we’re on vacation.”

Scully tried to hide her smile as the doors of the elevator closed.   
*** *** ***  
After the bellboy deposited her suitcase in her room, Scully immediately shed her business attire that had traveled across an ocean on her back, and turned on the taps for a bath. It was something about luxurious hotels and bubble baths for her. Leaning over the taps, she heard a door click in her suite.

“Scully?”

She chided herself for forgetting to lock the door adjoining their rooms, “…Mulder.” He could hear the exhaustion in her voice as well as the taps filling the tub. 

“We have a dinner in the ballroom in a couple of hours. Black tie.” With that, the door clicked again, and she heard the lock slide on his side. 

Scully let out a breath as she sank into the suds, the bubbles coating her body. The heat relaxed her muscles. There were even chocolates. 

 

After spending an inordinate amount of time getting ready, Scully knocked on the door separating her from her partner. 

“Mulder?”

The door swung open and Mulder’s lost the ability to control his jaw. Scully was wearing a black dress that stopped just above the knee, straps decorating her delicate shoulders. The bodice tucked her svelte form in perfectly, the half-moons of her breasts peaking over the deep neckline. 

Scully looked appreciatively at the cutting figure Mulder made in the tuxedo that he had rented for the occasion. Ill fitting suits and poor tie choices often made her forget the muscles that his beneath his baggy clothes. Putting one hand on his chest, she reached up with the other to straighten his bowtie. 

“Scully, you’re a heartbreaker. My classmates aren't going to believe that ‘Spooky’ Mulder could ever get a date, they’re going to be so disappointed,” he said, not breaking eye contact. 

“Good thing it’s not a date then.” Scully’s mouth lifted in a slight smile as Mulder chuckled. 

“There could have been a lot of sad faces, I got lucky. Well, maybe later.” Scully let go of his suit and made her way to the door of his room. 

As he reached to guide her into the hallway by the small of her back, his fingertips touched bare skin. It was an unexpected, electric heat. Mulder hadn’t noticed that the dress was backless. He didn’t drop his hand. As Scully stood in the doorway, she turned her head back to him, only briefly, as is to remark upon his caress. She thought better of her hesitation, and stepped out of his room. 

In the ballroom, where the event was being held, Scully felt that she was decorating his arm. It was a cavernous room coated in elegance and aristocracy, as were the voices of Mulder’s old classmates. He introduced her as his partner at the FBI, but they glanced over her to speak to other men about politics and their particular preferences in scotch. 

A classmate that Mulder had introduced as ‘Curious George’ was endowed with a particularly flamboyant mustache, which seemed to quiver with interest at every turn in the conversation. One of the sharply-dressed men in the circle was speaking about his soirees into the medical profession when Mulder cut in, “Scully, my partner, is a medical doctor.” He said this with his hand once again on her lower back, almost as though he were presenting her with pride to the group. 

Curious George’s mustache stopped twitching, and drinks paused on their way to lips. The ambiguous medical professional asked, “And you gave this up for a career with the FBI?” The circle laughed, George commenting on her similarity to Mulder. 

“We’ve heard about you Miss Scully, quite the curiosity that a woman such as yourself would be attracted to the kind of work that Mulder does.”

“Not everyone is fit for the medical profession.”

“Quite right.”

“Hope he takes care of you, I certainly would.”

Scully excused herself, and went to sit at their table. The food had cleared hours ago. No vestiges remained of the four course meal that had graced the hordes of tables covered in immaculate white linens and the finest china. The meal had been delicious, all four courses of it. Almost bursting out of her dress, all she really wanted to do was to return to the hotel. Her feet were sore and her eyelids heavy as Mulder had introduced her to the dirge of successful classmates and world leaders for hours. But it was the conversations that fatigued her. British politeness marred with disdain at such a qualified female. 

Cradling her champagne glass, she sat at the table for a few minutes before Mulder had extracted himself from the other alumni. He was slightly disheveled, his bowtie hanging around his neck, suit jacket flung across his back as he held it with his right hand. 

“Scully, Thomas has invited us out for drinks.”

“That’s okay Mulder, I think I should be heading back to the hotel.”

His grin lessened slightly, “Are you okay?”

She smiled reassuringly and waved him off. “Go. Have fun. I’m pretty jet lagged, I’ll see you later. We have a full day of dopplegangers to look forward to tomorrow.” 

With that she left the ballroom, the world in which she had no place, and started crossing the atrium towards the elevators. 

As she crossed the checkered floor, she caught sight of the hotel bar. What she saw stopped her in her tracks, as exhausted as she was. Sitting on the stool closest to the door, cradling a scotch, was Stella Gibson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any errors, posting without a beta. Enjoy!


	3. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully, when you meet your doppleganger in a bar, how can you still be such a skeptic?

Scully moved swiftly toward the bar, her pumps tapping against the floor of the lobby. Her intent echoed off of the walls. She had locked eyes on her own profile, lips parting against a glass that was much stouter than what Scully preferred. Blonde hair tumbled in ringlets down the Detective Inspector’s back, a chiffon shirt wrapped around her torso that parted just above the bust. Stella’s legs were crossed under a black business skirt, stilettos remarking the upon her well muscled calves like exclamation points. 

Scully deposited her hand above the barstool next to Stella, well manicured hands reflecting an odd grace in the wood of the bar-top. Stella fidgeted with her glass, hands with well bitten cuticles, much more purposeful movements than those of Scully’s. Stella looked over to her neighbor, and the movement of her hands stopped. 

Stella Gibson moved her full body toward Scully’s. The beating of their hearts could be heard between them, marking the seconds that passed as they stared into each other. Stella breathed out, “Amazing,” as her eyes, sparkling with slight tears, drank in the features of the redhead.

Scully just stared, her eyes darting toward explanations and questions as they roamed over the face of her Sosie. 

The Detective looked through eyes that were slightly heavier, slightly more sensual than the naked inquisition and skepticism in Scully’s face. When she spoke, it was at a lower timbre of sound, with different speech patterns than Scully. In addition to being English, Stella drew out her syllables, she milked them with authority. Scully spoke forensically, methodically. 

Stella was a personality of haze, of secrets whispered between sheets and of investigations into the minds of suspects, into the deepest corners of their identities.

Scully was different. She dissected victims, cataloguing their lives in the stasis of rigor. She didn’t know how to approach sheets, and preferred the methodical, well documented approach to inquiry and investigation. 

But as the air between the two women mingled, their lips parted to the same degree, they both began to smile. A side smile, one side of their face lifting in amusement, absolute happiness flooding their eyes. 

Without removing her gaze from Scully, Stella tapped her fingers on the bar-top, and gestured for the bartender. 

Scully didn’t turn to the sound of surprise that the man made, “Beer.”

“What is your name?”

“Dana Scully.”

“Did you just happen upon me in a bar, Dana?”

“No. My partner,” Scully said, her eyebrows raising slightly, glanced down at the floor in thought, “he uhm, had the notion of of looking into our similarities. We work for the FBI.”

“Similar career paths, taste in hotels. You are… quite unexpected Dana Scully. Why do you think we are so achingly similar?”

“It could just be the laws of probability. DNA, though extensive, is limited in possible combinations of traits. We may be a result of an exponentially growing population. I am a medical doctor. I would like to do a full examination.”

Stella frowned at the glass in her hand, “A perfect accident with the same age? Similar physiologies? I would like to see how far these similarities into our psychologies extend.”

“There is a genetic predisposition to similar physiologies, though I think you may be a few inches taller than I am. Compounding probabilities make it more unlikely, but this could extend to aspects of our personalities.”

Stella took a breath, “I don’t have anywhere I would rather be.”

The two women spoke for hours, until the hand on the clock above the bar crept up on the morrow, and the room emptied as a victim of the late hour. 

“Stella, why are you in this hotel? Isn’t it steep on a DI’s salary?”

“My home is being fumigated. In light of some recent high profile murder cases, the office wanted my lodgings to reflect how valuable I am.” Stella laughed, “It is because I am a woman in a position of power that is young and attractive and can be used to bait the press. I have no delusions on that matter.”

“Why are you here Dana? Oxford does not fund three nights at the Savoy.”

“I thought as much. It’s possible that Mulder believed I needed more incentive to stay.”

Stella looked through her as a blush crept into her cheeks, “I do believe he is quite smitten with you.”

Scully knew well enough now that she couldn’t dissuade people from the notion that she and Mulder were an item. They had a friendship that most could never approach understanding. 

Stella stood, put down another empty glass, and held out her hand.

They walked across the lobby in silence, Stella strutting next to Scully’s march. Perhaps they would have been the same height, but Stella spent her days looking above what society gave her, while Scully spent her life looking up at what the universe had brought to this world. 

As they stood waiting for the elevator Stella stroked Scully’s face, just once. She murmured, “You must allow yourself to enjoy love. It does not make you less of a woman. Some needs can only be met if you allow yourself to indulge.”

As the elevator opened, they saw that it was already occupied. Inside were two women that could have been mirror images of the pair. 

Stella and Scully looked at each other in surprise, but as they looked back inside the elevator, the two women were gone. After combing the elevator for mirrors and reflective surfaces, Scully stood.

The door’s moved to close, and she reached for Stella’s arm. Ascending to room 314, Scully whispered, “I think there may be an X File here after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted without a beta. I'm trying to write a chapter a day, so thank you all for bearing with me. Hope you enjoy!


	4. Laws of Probability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's hotel room is an exhibit in impermanence.

The hotel key card clicked, and Stella Gibson entered Scully's room. It was a lavish affair, taffeta drapes on the canopy of the bed, gold rimmed furniture, antiques that dated far prior to the 18th century. In comparison, the small travel suitcase that sat at the base of the bed was beaten,  battered, and worse for wear. The many FBI investigations had worn it threadbare. The only personal effects that scattered the room were case notes and a personal computer. 

Stella thought back to her room,  her belongings in disarray. Everywhere she went, she made her mark. She could not stand the impersonal. Her underthings were scattered through the drawers, her blouses folded into the dresser. Case notes were everywhere. 

Their personal habits clearly differed. They were both career women, both were women succeeding in a man’s world. But Dana had other hopes, hope of a family, at least from what she had divulged to Stella. She thought back to the small scar in the back of her neck, how she would be eternally barren, despite the best of modern technology. 

They had both skipped from interest to interest. Dana had her medical degree, then Quantico; Stella had anthropology, psychology, and English literature to fall back on. But while Dana spent her nights on a work life, Stella was not afraid to be caught in the arms of a lover. Or for that matter, not afraid to be caught alone. She spent her waking hours catching others in the thrall of their desires, but even by a twisted transitive property she could never get her fill of her own.

She turned back to Scully, away from the dark corners of her mind. She was bespectacled, typing methodically on her computer. Stella leaned over her shoulder. It was 17th century literature on the concept of doubling. 

Scully came out of her own reverie, "I remember reading about another case like this, somewhere in the x-files. I would have to ask Mulder for the specifics. It involved the phenomenon of 'doubling'. With the introduction of cities, a concentration of populations larger than anyone had ever seen, people started seeing doppelgängers. There were many unrelated, though unconfirmed reports, if I remember correctly. It has no basis in science, no hard facts, so I don't know how much help the phenomenon can be to determining exactly what we saw."

Stella stopped chewing gone her cuticles and said, "Perhaps it was just that. A sight. We are both intoxicated. Our physiologies are similar enough that with the same stimuli, the same effect could be observed in both of us. Perhaps we were drugged."

"I would agree, but the probability would be astronomical of us both seeing the same thing. It’s so unlikely, I would say impossible. We should look at this with fresh eyes. In the morning. Sober."

Stella’s lips turned up in a smile. Rocking back on her heels, she removed her hands from her pockets to deposit a hand on Scully’s shoulder, who stopped typing to look up at her mirror image. To Stella, Scully’s eyes seemed bluer, reflecting her red hair. Her lips were slightly plumper, redder than her own. It was an peculiar. A feeling that held its own unique brand of attraction. 

“Will you conduct a physical examination in the morning?”

“Yes. Now why don’t we”- a knock on her door interrupted Scully’s musings. 

A very drunk Mulder stumbled through their adjoining doorway, “Scullaay you missed out. Pot has had major improvements since college.”

Stella and Scully looked at each other. Stella bit her lip. Scully, pulling her glasses off of the bridge of her nose,was the one to tell Mulder, “Go to sleep Mulder.”

“Oh yeah sleep. Sleep. I’m going to catch some zzzzzz’s. I’m seeing double! Double of you, double bed. Can I sleep in your bed Scully? You just smell so good. Always. I think it’s your hair. I just want to smell you. Come ‘ere so I can smell you. Either one of you.” 

Closing his eyes to the sight of two pairs of crossed arms, Mulder proceeded to pass out on Scully’s duvet.

Scully sighed as she went to remove his shoes and socks before tucking him under her covers. 

Stella had kicked off her heels, and was in the process of untucking her shirt when Scully turned and raised her eyebrows. Stella’s eyes pierced through her as she walked over to the king-size bed where Mulder lay prostrate, and proceeded to crawl onto the bed on the opposite side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've barely edited this, and may change it completely. I'm whimsical.


End file.
